Masters of Pleasure
by Phoenix13
Summary: 2009 MOVIEVERSE - An old Cybertronian custom where experienced mechs show young femmes how to interface for their first time, is kept alive by Ratchet and Ironhide. For everyones sanity, Optimus Prime provides accidental supervision. SMUT! CRACK! Ch3 up!
1. Chapter 1

**Masters of Initiation**

Authors Note: This was meant to be a cheap little oneshot, a crack bunny based on my crude mental image of Ratchet and Ironhide teaching a femme about interfacing, but yet again my brain has grabbed onto it, lifted it up over my head, and run away cackling with it into the bushes. Darn it. Emerald is a femme I quickly made up, solely for the purpose of Ratchet and Ironhide displaying their expertise. Hasbro own everything else. This first chapter is very mild, and I promise to get this fic FINISHED!

**NEST base, Diego Garcia, Earth...**

"You know, with this many femmes, we could declare to the Decepticons that we hold the majority of the females and therefore we have won the war. 'Nyah, nyah, we won, you lost, sucks to be you'."

Optimus Prime's body stiffened. His head turned a fraction to glare at his playful CMO; Ratchet; after the mechs loaded words. The glare was punishing, but it was shadowed by humor. The medic was standing just behind his Commander, his hands linked behind his back and his relaxed official pose giving nothing away that his words could be construed as potentially offensive and very sexist. The huge Commander mech twitched his mouthplates. If there was one thing he was more than certain of, it was that there was going to be _plenty_ of trouble on base with this many unattached females wafting around, and Ironhide and Ratchet were on the hunt already.

Prime had dealt many times before with the troublesome duos appetite for females. Nothing female was safe, unless the femme in question happened to be Skids and Mudflaps _sister..._ then Ironhide and Ratchet were united in demanding to be transferred to another country and being given identity protection.

"For once I agree with you, medic," Ironhide rumbled, nodding approvingly. He wasn't interested in appearing diplomatic or welcoming. His arms were crossed over his large chest with his hands tucked into his armpits. His cannons were whirring away in ready mode on his forearms. More than one femme stopped to stare at his obvious firepower. One thing Cybertronian females shared with Earth females – a big scary gun got a male tons of respect from the girls, and it was a big drawcard for those femmes interested in mechs with more than average dimensions between their legs.

"See?" Ratchet waved a hand at the progress of the females disembarking the shuttle, "they just keep coming!"

"'Coming', Ratchet?" Ironhide said suggestively.

"Put a shotgun in it, 'Hide," Ratchet shot back, pasting a welcoming smile on his faceplates.

The big charismatic, handsome, and genteel Autobot Leader was getting the majority of the gawking stares from the new femmes, and Optimus was gracious in nodding his head politely and warmly welcoming the new girls to Earth. Ironhide attracted femmes who either stared at him in shock or leered and cooed over his weaponry. Even Ratchet was getting interested glances. The femmes knew him by reputation – his legendary and skilful interfacing persona, or his long-time status as the best medic Cybertron had ever seen. _Ever_.

Ratchet was a professional. Yes, he had a reputation as something of a gigolo and femme 'educator', but he kept his private business and his dedication to his public duty as Chief Medical Officer, separate. The two did not cross. He was always available to repair and care for any bot – female or male – when it came to their health. He didn't blink an optic at any pretty or outrageously beautiful femme when she was in his medbay, his only concern was caring for their physical and mental health. When he was in his private quarters and on his own berth, and he was able to carefully put his medical self safely to one side, then he had a different agenda. Pleasure. Long and loud, slow and intense, with any femme who approached him when he was not on duty, and if she gave him her full consent.

"Hey," Chromia poked a stiff finger into Ironhide's back motor relay, getting him to flinch in surprise. She had glided with stealthy steps up to her bonded mate, "Hands and optics off the new hardware, afthead."

"Hardware? Chromia, females are software," Ironhide jerked a thumb at his own chest, "mechs are the _hardware_, obviously. What gets hard on a femme? You need us to let you run. We activate you," the mech smirked, "and we get the reward of an overload."

The optics of one slender femme straggling past the welcoming party, oggled Ironhide. She'd heard the comment. She gulped, ducked her head, and power-walked away.

Optimus Prime sighed, raising one large hand to cover his optics with it and wince. "Ironhide..."

Chromia snickered, slapping Ironhide heartily in the shoulder. "Be careful with the innocent ones, my permanently stiff-and-ready mech, or you'll scare them all away. Then what will you activate?"

Ironhide guffawed, pleased as always that he'd chosen a femme with the same gaudy sense of humor that he had, "Ah Mia, you'll always be my primary target, you know that."

"Gee, thanks," Chromia mock-rolled her optics and let him drag her in close to his armored side. She snuggled in, never afraid of showing affection in public.

With the femmes disembarked and disappearing into the main assembly hangar for processing, Optimus sighed and rubbed at the back of his neckplates. "Well, I guess that's over with for the moment. Excuse me, I believe I'll use some spare time to talk to Elita."

"And I had better get to my medbay and wait for the first femmes to come through for their check-ups," Ratchet stated, "I think I'm going to be busy for the next month, caring for them all."

Prime turned to leave, but caught the swift stealthy movement of one silver mech sneaking into the hangar full of femmes, "Sideswipe, no! Out of there! Leave the femmes be!"

Ironhide loudly guffawed at the droop of Sideswipes shoulders and his disheartened spin on his wheeled feet. He swung around and rolled away like a reprimanded puppy. "We've got a competitor for getting to the femmes first, Ratchet," the Weapons Specialist said.

Ratchet stiffened his stance and lifted his noseplates into the air, "From that amateur? Bring it on. No mech surpasses us. _No_ mech."

"Yes, I think that's enough rampaging egos for one day," Optimus Prime muttered. He stalked away to find somewhere private and talk to his beloved Elita One over his comlink.

Standing in the hangar doorway, a slim, petite, and very young female peeked out from behind the door. Her optics peered curiously at the broad mechly forms of Ironhide and Ratchet standing on the tarmac. She'd heard so much about them. She wanted to wander over and say hello but her insecurities and shyness held her back. Perhaps later... with less optics watching on. Yes, that was a good idea. Later.

_**One week later, on the target range...**_

Chromia watched the small femme, one arm hanging by her side and the other perching her hand on her hip and tapping away with her fingers. She was concerned with this new recruit. Concerned, as in, she seemed much too unsure of herself and nervous about everything to do with the mechs at the Diego Garcia base. Ratchet had reported that while the femme – going by the name of 'Emerald' – was physically in good condition, she seemed to have very low self-esteem, and worried about most things that she shouldn't be. He was going to recommend to Elita when she returned that Emerald have some counselling to soothe her nerves. Chromia had seen for herself what happened when Sideswipe had flirted with her – she'd backed away and taken off. Sideswipe had been shocked, staring after her with a genuine 'What did I do?!' expression.

Even Optimus Prime hadn't been spared. When the big guy had nodded and smiled at her on his way to the Operations hangar, Emerald had squeaked and covered her face with her hands. Now that was much more than general nerves around a legend. That was something else.

Chromia frowned. Nerves. Around males. Hmmm. Her fingers tapped quicker. There were ways to fix that, and quickly. If the femme was to utilise her potential on missions, and keep herself and those around her as safe as possible, she would have to get over her anxieties around the mechs. And in any case, she was such a sweet thing, friendly and amicable. She deserved to be helped by someone older and wiser.

Chromia raised her voice, "Emerald? Could you come over here for one moment?"

The femme was experienced enough to efficiently flick the safety on her rifle, stow it on her hip, and walk alertly over to her Acting Commander with little fuss. "Yes, Commander?"

Chromia gave her a tiny smile and gestured for her to walk at her side, "C'mon, you and me are going to have a talk. A talk about mechs... and what Ratchet and my Ironhide can do for you."

Emerald's face lit up, "I, er... I was going to ask you about. I've heard about what Ironhide can do, and Ratchet."

Chromia grinned, saying wryly, "Most femmes have. Let's go somewhere private, shall we?"

_**Later that night, in Chromia and Ironhide's quarters...**_

Ironhide strained his body over the top of Chromia's, his hips shoved into the erotic space between her thighs, and his upper body arched up off of her shuddering femme frame, spilling himself inside of her. Chromia was keening and spasming underneath him.

"GAH! Primus~! Uh!"

Ironhide felt his systems winding down after the intense overload, and he propped his upper body up on his straight arms on top of her, his optics darkening. He made no attempt to remove his male spike from inside of her. "Liked that, eh?"

When Chromia remembered how to articulate words; and words that weren't proclamations to Primus; she put each of her hands on her sparkmate's hips. "Yeah... slag. You're good," she dragged one pointed finger down the front of his black chest, purring, "very good."

"The best?" Ironhide growled dominantly.

"Oh yes." She winked at him, "By several galaxies."

Her mate began to grin, but she cut off him by flexing the pliable walls of her feminine valve, rippling them up and down his interface where it was buried deep inside of her. "Femme!!" He snapped his hips back to exit her bodily hold and crumpled in a body roll next to her on the berth. Another grunt and the Weapons Specialist was on his way to recharge land.

"Oh no you don't," Chromia rolled to face him and gripped his body armor with both hands, "don't pass out just yet, I want to ask you something."

"Eh," 'Hide rubbed at his faceplates tiredly, "so ask then."

"Emerald. One of the new femmes, I want you to do an induction for her. Her first time."

Ironhide paused his hand. Lowered it to cover where her hand was on his chest. "What brought this on?"

Chromia shrugged, tracing the lines of his truck hood where it split across his front. "She's a shy one. Very nice, sweet in ways that I'm not, and when she has to interact with mechs it scares the energon out of her. She has potential but only if she can get past her inhibitions." She poked at his square headlight, "Understand?"

The big mech thought about it – for all of a microsecond. No one had to ask him twice to interface with a femme. "You want me to show her how to interface. To get used to a mech."

"Yup. She has to stop thinking of them as mystical and scary. I've talked to her, she likes the sound of you and Ratchet."

"Yeah?" He cracked a grin. "Well, who wouldn't? Sure, count me in. Tell me when and where." He poked her in the shoulder playfully, "Tonight?"

Chromia used her arms to pull herself over his high chest and brush her mouth over his, "No, not tonight! Smexy mech. Thank you, 'Hide."

_**Next morning...**_

Ratchet was feeling good this morning. He had the morning free to potter around his beloved medbay and do all of the things that were non-critical and always got shoved to the back of his list of medbay duties. Polishing, getting out the equipment that he only rarely used, washing down walls... all that. He was crouching on the floor and sweeping out one of his low level cabinets when the medbay door creaked open. Ratchet peered around the cabinet door, and lifted an optic ridge at seeing two pairs of pretty femme feet. One pair he knew – Chromia – the other he reconised as one of the new femmes he'd checked over the week before. He got up from his crouch.

"Morning Chromia," Ratchet glanced at Emerald, giving a brief nod of hello. "What brings you in this morning? You don't have appointments and I don't have either of you logged as needing servicing."

Emerald had trouble meeting Ratchet's gaze. She was keeping herself just behind Chromia's tall shoulder and trying to look at anything and everything except the broad, lime-green, very mechly doctor in the middle of the bay with his arms and legs composed of powerful hydraulics and muscle cables underneath his heavy armor. For a medical bot, Ratchet was one strong and experienced warrior.

Chromia strode confidently over to stand in front of the CMO, her rifle on her leg clinking against her armored thigh. "Ratchet, we're here to ask a favor. A very, _special_, favor." She rested her hand on Emerald's shoulder, shifting the smaller femme around to in front of her. "For Emerald."

"Special?" Ratchet echoed. Not many bots asked him for favors. "What are you talking about?"

Emerald dropped her gaze and stared at her feet nervously.

"I'm talking about helping Emerald with being intimate with a mech," Chromia said, her tone softening. "Helping her with her first time."

If Sam or Mikaela, or practically any other human had been listening, they would have freaked. Humans did NOT give their young innocent women and girls to another man just to remove her virginity or receive coaching. To them it would've seemed outrageous. Scandalous. Just plain, _wrong_. To the Cybertronians, this was a very old and acceptable method of helping new bots integrate into society and care for their needs. It was done for femmes and mechs. For any bot who asked or showed signs of needing attention.

"Hmmm," Ratchet braced his hips on a bench behind him and folded his arms, looking at Emerald. "You need some help and attention do you?"

Chromia placed her arm around Emerald's back and shuffled her forwards. The young female flicked her optics up at the mech then looked away, mumbling, "Yes sir."

Ratchet peered at her calmly. Emerald was an attractive femme. She was a soft green, with accents of chrome, her build structure was one of the newest designs to come from Cybertron. She was slender, curvy and enchanting. "And I'm guessing that you want me to do that for you."

Emerald's voice dimmed further, "Yes... please? I know other femmes that have done this, and they're happy and satisfied. I want that too."

"Ironhide has volunteered as well, and Em says she would feel more comfortable with you, but she'll use Ironhide if you decline. Unless you and 'Hide do it together?" Chromia spoke, her firm professional and smooth. The femme had no qualms about her sparkmate performing such a duty. It was no problem. Ironhide wouldn't spark merge with any femme he was coaching, only interface. He was still totally her mech. And besides, Mia was proud of her mechs prowess. A female never forgot their time with him. He was special.

Ratchet smiled slowly. Warmly. It had been a long, long time since he'd had the pleasure of educating a female. It was one of his favourite duties. "Well." He pushed himself off the bench and walked over to stand in front of Emerald. The femme backed up a step cautiously. "Have you discussed this thoroughly with Chromia? Do you understand what you're asking one of us to do for you? We don't go ahead unless you give your full informed consent."

A slow nod, her voice tiny, "Yes. I want you to, showing me how to interface."

"Hmm." Ratchet switched his gaze to Chromia. The elder femme had an intense look on her faceplates. "You came to the same conclusion I did when I examined her."

A patented Chromia smirk, "Pretty much. We can't have her in the field being worried or nervous about having so many mechs around her or getting close. If we can settle her nerves enough to make her relax and be in control of herself, things will be easier for everyone." Mia patted Emerald on the back, "You'll feel better, Em."

"What did Ironhide say?" Ratchet queried Chromia.

"HA! What do you think he said? I had to stop him from marching to her quarters and locking himself in with her."

Emerald gulped. Oh no. A gentle hand landed on her shoulder. She looked up to see Ratchet bending over in front of her with soft optics and a kind expression.

"Emerald, we will look after you. I promise. We'll start and stop whenever you say, and we will _never_ hurt you. Okay?"

Chromia was surprised when Emerald reached up and put her arms around Ratchet's neck, hugging him hard and tugging him down to her level before shyly pulling back. "The other femmes... I had heard how nice you and Ironhide are when you do this," Emerald said softly. "I trust you."

Ratchet smiled, a genuine smile. "Good." He looked up at Chromia, "I'll clear this with Prime, he needs to know, then arrange the time and place, and-" he grinned down at the new young femme, "we'll be ready to go."

"Ironhide too?"

The medic rolled his optics, "Yes, Ironhide too, if that's what you want. Now away with you, I have many tasks to arrange and perform before we do our duty."

Emerald nodded, leaving the medbay with several glances at him over her shoulder.

"How many of the new femmes have you done this to, you recycled pervert?" Chromia demanded once the medbay door swung shut.

"Done? Such a crude word. Five so far, what's wrong with that?" Ratchet shot back smoothly. He took a step close to her and nudged her with his elbow, "Did you need a refresher course?"

Chromia huffed, growled at him, and stomped out the door, her armor glittering. "When you set my spark racing like Ironhide does, then we'll talk, medic."

"Doesn't a large erect spike persuade you easily rnough?" Ratchet called out, smirking.

Chromia stuck her head back into the medbay, snapping out, "I _have_ a mech with a humongous spike, old mech!" Then she playfully stuck two fingers up at him and disappeared. Ratchet laughed his head off.


	2. Chapter 2

**Masters of Pleasure**

Authors Note: Thanks heaps to everyone who reviewed the first chapter! I should've made it my new years resolution to reply to all my reviews, because I have fallen behind again. ::smacks self:: So, thanks and hugs to, _**Felina Fullstop**_ (yes, femme sandwiches are teh awesome!), _**flamingmarsh**_ (thanks for the kind words, and the truth! I wasn't sure if this would work out either! Bunnies don't always make sense), _**The Perfect Spell**_ (yes, sexy doctor loving is coming!), _**Kaekokat**_ (LOL, sorry mate, the name is set already, but feel free to do some Ratch and Hide smex of your own, eh?), _**magnusrae**_ (man, your review is better than my fic! LMAO! I owe you one), _**Linda Saphira Witwicky**_ (more is here, and is it ever), _**Pyrofrickenmaniac**_ (heya girl! Knew you'd pop up with some great words, I too would love a refresher course from smexy Ratch any day), _**cmo-hatchet**_ (mate, you know I loves you, LOL, and I hope you're feeling better soon, this fic is for you! Hold onto it tight and think lovely Ratchet thoughts), _**Pontifex Maximus**_ (update is here!), _**XxLaBellaNottexX**_ (pure genius? Awww, thanks! I won't say no! Heh).

**Chapter 2**

**NEST, Ratchet's private quarters, early evening...**

Sitting on the edge of his own berth, Ratchet gave Ironhide a pointy look, running his optics critically over the body of the big black mech, "Did you clean yourself?" The CMO brought his optics up from scrutinising Ironhide's crotch, "You know. _Everywhere_."

Leaning back on Ratchet's oversized recharge platform (the medic was a popular interface partner, and he'd installed a platform that could easily unfold and transform itself into twice the width it usually was for when he had 'friends' over), Ironhide snorted, putting his hands behind his head, "You know I clean myself thoroughly whenever femmes are around."

Ratchet's noseplates clinked as his sensors covered themselves in a sign of disgust, "Oh yes, I remember, it's only other mechs that you like to stink up. I knew there was a reason why I love it whenever Chromia is around."

As Ironhide growled and took a swipe at Ratchet from his laid back position, a timid knock at the door announced the arrival of their guest. The CMO's optics brightened. "Ah. Here she is." He smacked Ironhide on his thigh, "Behave. It's show time."

"Behave?" Ironhide shook his head, "But that's the point of all this, she wants to learn what it's like when bots _don't_ behave."

"Shut up, Fabio." Ratchet got to his feet and keyed open his door. It slid back to reveal the femme Emerald standing there looking like she wanted to run away. She looked quite stunning. Her lightweight armor was gleaming with the polish she'd given it. Her facial expression changed back and forth from looking terrified, to appearing curious. Ratchet smiled happily at her. "Hello there."

Emerald's optics lifted all the way up Ratchet's tall body, taking in his dimensions from his wide round-tipped feet, past his narrow-but-stocky hips, his armored torso with long arms and elegant hands, his wide chest covered with his Hummer-brand truck parts... until her gaze collided with his. She knew that for a male Cybertronian, Ratchet was one damn fine mech. Primus, she was one lucky femme to be afforded an opportunity like this. Not wanting to appear too star-struck, she jerked her jaw shut and forced her mouthplates into a stiff smile. "Hi?"

"Stop scaring the female, Ratch, and invite her in."

"I do NOT scare females, Ironaft, I'm the one who collects and comforts them after you've sent them running," Ratchet retorted, standing aside and motioning for the femme to enter his quarters. "Come on in Emerald, don't mind Ironhide, you'll soon learn to ignore what comes out of his mouthplates and just use his body as you see fit. That's how we all handle him. Optimus learned that lesson early on. Throw him at the 'Cons and fix collateral damage later."

"HEY!"

Emerald tuned out the friendly mech banter, walking through Ratchet's doorway with baby steps and glancing around. Her optics widened. Wow. Compared to her quarters, this was very comfy. Almost extravagant. No bare bones walls and standard issue furnishings here for the executive officers in Optimus Prime's army. There was an extra large berth, and that was saying something considering that Ironhide was NOT a small mech, and the berth looked like it could comfortably take two more mechs his size without a problem. Not standard issue, obviously, since its shiny silver frame looked like it had been hand sculpted, and the padding on top was done in a light metallic blue. Quite fancy. A large gun-metal grey desk with several chairs surrounding it took up the other half of the room. The metal walls were painted in sky blue with black panelling – all in all, not a bad color scheme compared to Ratchet's optic-watering lime green armor. Maybe the mech had more taste than they gave him credit for...

Emerald jumped when a pair of hands settled gently onto her shoulders from behind.

"Emerald? Would you like to take a seat?" Ratchet asked quietly, his presence behind her large and overwhelming - and strangely reassuring at the same time. She had never been more acutely aware of the fact that she was female, and Ratchet was male.

She looked up at him over her shoulder, encountering him standing at her back and staring kindly down at her. "Er... yes. Yes, that would be nice," she said awkwardly. Ratchet was gorgeous, but Ironhide was the one she was looking forward to the most.

Emerald truly wasn't sure what to expect. Neither Ratchet nor Ironhide had given her any indication of what would be happening apart from her interfacing with a mech for the first time. Bracing herself and gingerly sitting down on the end of the big berth – one half of her was shaking with excitement at being so close to such admirable and mature mechs, while her other half was nervous as hell - she guessed that the males would be aware of how pent up she was and had a plan worked out to get her through this. She was counting on Ratchet to be patient with her and thoroughly explain what he would be doing to her. Ironhide was the one she wanted a satisfying, metal-shaking, never-to-be-forgotten, frag from. The kind of mating that made the other femmes groan in delight and clench their thighs together when they happily reminisced about it in the femme rec room. She wanted that; after Ratchet had shown her the ropes.

The moment her aft hit the berth, Ironhide sat up and shuffled himself over to sit next to her with his legs crossed in front of him. She peeked timidly up at him from under her optic ridges. Primus, he was massive. Scary. Her spark began to thrum faster in her chest. Scary but utterly do-able. She wanted what he had to offer.

Ironhide attempted to smile in a non-threatening way at her, but he came out looking rather predatory. "Hello."

Emerald gulped. Her mouth opened but nothing came out. Damn it. What a way to make herself look good. Speechless. Dumbaft.

"Awww, look," Ironhide said smugly, reaching out and running his fingertip lightly over her gaping mouth, "she's awestruck." His finger slid under her chin and closed her mouth. "We'll do mouths later, sweetspark. First you have to learn about our male bodies." His finger tapped her noseplates, making her relax and giggle slightly, "Then we show you what yours can do under guidance from us."

The femme nodded slowly. All wide optics and an expression of 'Holy slag!'.

"Humph." Ratchet stood in front of her on spread thighs with his arms folded across his big chest. Studying her. "You don't give guidance, 'Hide. You grab and frag. The femmes stand in line and you hump'em one after the other."

Ironhide growled, saying darkly, "If you want to know what bondage and discipline is like Emerald, I'll tie Ratch' up and let you have a go at him with whips and chains."

Emerald gasped, squashing her hands to her face delightedly, squeaking. They were funny.

The CMO gave Ironhide a disgusted look. Lowering his arms, he climbed and slid onto the surface of the recharge berth, lying on his front with his chin in his hands. "Just for that smart remark, why don't you show her the boring bits? As in, what's under your groin armor."

Ironhide snorted, "Ha. Ha. The only boring bits are the pieces of you that make funny sounds when they don't work properly. Like your interface."

Ratchet rolled his optics in their casings and indulgently twirled his finger in the air, "Moving on..."

"Alright, alright. Impatient slagger." Ironhide spread his legs out in front of him with his thighs held apart and met Emerald's curious gaze with his own. "Have you ever seen a mech's spike?"

Emerald's optics brightened, then her gaze lowered to stare at his feet self-consciously, "In a database file – yes. In real life – no."

"Uh huh." Ironhide lifted one optic ridge at her response. "You really do need educating, don't you? Never fear, that's what we're here for." So saying, he retracted the metal plates over his crotch with a digital signal, revealing his sleeping spike housed within its casing in his pelvic region. Only the rounded protruding head was visible. Dormant.

Emerald leaned forward over his thigh, her hand splayed on his black armor and her optics widening. She jerked her head back when she forgot herself, over-balanced, and almost went nose-to-nose with it between his hips. Her first look! She blinked, sharpening her view. A spike! A real-life, Primus be praised, male interface! Hmm. It looked... thick. Uh oh. Too thick? Too thick to get inside of her?

"Show her all of it, you glitch," Ratchet ordered, watching her reactions carefully. His own spike was about the same length as Ironhides, but he wasn't as thick. He'd get her to compare the two of them and make up her own mind about who she wanted to use first. "Sorry Emerald, he needs a kick in the aft sometimes to get moving."

"Femme, I'll show you what happens when a mech is kicked hard in the groin if Ratchet keeps the smart remarks going," Ironhide growled.

Ratchet glared at him. Emerald snickered softly.

"Besides, I don't want to scare her with how big it is," Ironhide continued, matching Ratchet's glare with a harsher one of his own.

The medic growled, "Big, my aft, when was the last time you stood next to Optimus in the wash racks and compared sizes, hmm?"

"Humph. Whatever." Leaning back on his straight arms, Ironhide openly extended his sleeping spike. Its length pushed out from its hidey hole, reaching down between his open legs and hanging with its head on the berth. He gestured at Emerald, "Look at it. Touch it. It won't break. Come on, you can't learn unless you get up close." He pointed one stubby finger at his spike. "Hands, in there. Now. Learn what you are looking at, female."

Hesitantly following his orders, Emerald reached out her hand and poked at the middle of it. At the first touch she drew back uncertainly. Unsure. When Ironhide didn't move she returned her hand to him. Her fingers brushed over his length. Ironhide rumbled a groan of pleasure. Emerald watched with fascination as the long spike began to stiffen rapidly. It lengthened and fattened itself, looking like it had a life all of its own. Her fingers caressed it by force of will. Her natural instinct was to back off and leave it alone but she overrode it and kept touching. She was here to learn, and she would. The spike kept rising until it was hard and upright.

"It's warm... and the surface is somewhat, um, pliable, while underneath the outer skin, you're very hard," she commented, feeling she should say something as she was examining it. Here she was, openly touching the naked interface of Optimus Prime's much heralded Weapons Specialist – by invitation, no less! "It feels so strange." Getting herself settled on her knees next to Ironhide's hips, she studied her new specimen avidly. Touching it was making her fuel tanks flutter with excitement - and nerves.

Ironhide's interface was proud and stiff above his crotch. The mech's thick black thighs flexed restlessly. He was now wishing he'd fragged Chromia more then just three times the previous night because he was getting excited far too quickly with Emerald's hands all over his private parts. If he ejaculated transfluid all over her hands in the next few moments he was going to be so embarrassed. It would be a practical lesson for Emerald but a big dent to his male ego to climax too soon.

"The energon and other fluids filling it up is the same that runs through our fuel lines, so yes, it is as warm as our bodies are," Ratchet said quietly, watching her. It was always fascinating – and delightfully arousing in a very naughty way – to watch a femme touch a mech's spike for the first time. He shifted his hips on the berth. His own spike was getting excited, and it was displeased at being cooped up behind his tight groin plates.

Emerald stared at the medic. His optics watched what her hands were doing on another mechs throbbing spike. A thought occurred to her. "Aren't you two worried about looking at each others interfaces? Don't you feel nervous?" she asked. "This is pretty private business. I'd be worried about being with another femme in front of a mech, so don't you feel, you know... awkward?"

Resting back on his elbows (and voluntarily firing off several subroutines in his systems in an attempt to hold back his sexual excitement), Ironhide looked askance at Ratchet, "Nope. Why would I worry about Ratch staring at me? He can watch and participate all he likes."

Ratchet didn't comment. His optics appeared hooded and dimmed. He carefully got off the recharge platform and moved to stand in front of them both.

Putting his hands on his hips, he allowed his groin plates to open, and his eager spike to extend outwards. It was hardening and rising as she stared at it. Emerald watched him with surprised optics. Giving her a smirk, Ratchet patted his own spike in front of them. "No, and that's the point. Being confident about yourself in front of others is a skill that can be taught," he smirked at the femme, "and learned. You merely lack experience." He held his hand out palm upwards to her. "Come here, shy one."

She got down from the berth and approached him slowly. Her hands were held in front of her as some kind of protection. Ratchet was big, and not just in size - he carried himself in such a confident and bold way that anyone standing before him yearned for his instant approval – and wanted to take several steps backward if they were his enemy. Wanting his approval was something she felt acutely. She wanted him to like her. To approve of her. To say she was _worthy_. She stopped hesitantly a short arms length from him, and placed her small hand in his much larger one. His optics flared brightly at her. Captured by his aura as well as his hand, she allowed him to close his hand over hers and gently tug her against his thick body as if they were about to dance.

She automatically pulled her body away from contacting his now very full erection.

"Don't shy away from me." Ratchet slid his arm around her waist and pulled her in closer so his spike was pushed upwards against his abdomen by her body leaning in on it, keeping it nestled between them. "Never hesitate to touch or be near a mechs interface, otherwise you'll make him feel awkward and rejected." He lifted his hand to run his thumb over her cheekplate. "That's your second lesson."

Peering up at his aristocratic faceplates, Emerald looked confused. "What... what, uh, was the first?"

Ratchet's head lifted. He looked haughtily at the other mech in the room. "Touching Ironhide's spike without saying 'eeeuew'."

A cushion bounced off Ratchet's sharply thrown up arm. A heavy growl filled the room. "Shove it up your exhaust, medic."

Emerald glanced at Ironhide over her shoulder, and was shocked to discover him lying flat on his back with his legs splayed out and one of his hands squeezing and pulling at his erect spike. She quickly returned to staring at Ratchet's chest in front of her optics. She had a lot to learn before she had the easy confidence that both the mechs were showing her. An awful lot to learn. Opening her groin plates in front of them and letting them see her 'down there' was going to be a challenge. Her instincts wanted her to attempt mating with them and she certainly desired to do just that deep in her spark - just as a femme was designed to do with a mech - but she had no idea where she was going to get the confidence from to do it.

...and from the heat and stiffness that made up Ratchet's spike pressed into the front of her body where her hands were held by him, she was going to have to find it somewhere fast.

Her head bowed. She flinched. "Um... I'm..." She paused. She hated how small and stupid her voice sounded. "I'm worried I won't be able to do this," she finished softly, keeping her face pointed downwards. It meant she was looking at the round head of Ratchet's erection but hey, it was marginally easier than trying to look him in the optics. "I want this, I do," she vented air in frustration, "but it's hard."

She jerked and gasped when another pair of hands rested unexpectedly on her hips from behind. Another big male chest pushed against her shoulders, and a pair of narrow mech hips pressed into her backplates, keeping her trapped between him and the other male that she was leaning on.

"Femme..." Ironhide's fingertips brushed over her shoulder reassuringly then trailed up and down her neck with a light touch, "with us around, you're in the best hands you'll find in half the galaxy for what you need." He dropped his head down to press his mouthplates to the side of her neck. "Let us help you get ready for what is to come."

Numbly, she nodded. They knew what they were doing, and with Ratchet's erection lying against her front, and Ironhide's thick spike rubbing into her back, what femme would say no?

Ironhide's hands dropped to circle her small waist. She dimmed her optics and let a surprised "Oh!" come forth when he reached down past her abdomen and cupped her crotch with his large hand. He undulated his fingers against her covered groin, and a shot of pleasure rippled up her belly. "OH!" Her head slammed back into his chest. Held comfortably caged between the bodies of the two big mechs, she let them both begin to touch and feel her body. She braced her hands on Ratchet's abdomen and stayed still.

Big mech hands slid over her rounded armor. Teasing. Rubbing.

"Ratch, you do her bottom bits. I'll handle the top."

"Right."

The co-ordination of their movements was incredible. Emerald felt her nerves slipping away to be replaced by a pleasure that was filling her from her feet to the top of her head.

::_Ratchet. Where are you? I'm in the medbay._::

Ratchet's hands froze. Optimus. For the love of Primus, why now? Why? The fragger had the worst timing. ::_Busy. Did you need something?::_

The sound of armor creaking and a 'scritch, scritch' sound echoed over the internal comlink. ::_Kind of. Elita wants me to get a bot-to-bot verbal confirmation of consent from Emerald before you and Ironhide induct her. She says it's necessary.::_

Ironhide paused his hands on Emeralds shoulders, giving Ratchet a glare. "Who the frag are you gossiping to?"

Emerald tensed between the two mechs. She was totally wound up and ready to burst into an overload.

"Optimus," Ratchet told Ironhide tersely. "I apologise for this, Emerald." ::_Too late, Miss Femme Commander will have to accept Emerald's word over a comlink since we've already started her induction and she is currently suspended in a totally incoherent state between Ironhide and myself_.::

Optimus Prime made a face. Slag it. ::_One moment._:: He told Elita what was happening but he couldn't get his beloved to sway from making him fronting up in-person to Emerald and getting her to say clearly in his presence that she gave her permission to Ironhide and Ratchet to provide her with her first interface. Sometimes Elita was too strict and aft-headed about things, and this was one of those times. He shook his head regretfully and opened his comlink to his CMO once more. :_:Ratchet, I am sorry, but I will have to order you to cease all activities with Emerald and await my imminent arrival.::_

Stuck between two mechs with hard spikes who had abruptly ceased their pleasurable actions in coaching her body to overload, Emerald squirmed uncomfortably. She thumped the flats of her hands on Ratchet's big chest urgently. "What... why are you stopping? I like this! It feels great!"

Ratchet met Ironhide's concerned optics. "Did you hear all that?"

"Yeah. I patched myself in." Ironhide grimaced, a near snarl lifting up his mouthplates. "I can't decide who is the bigger glitch, Optimus or Elita." He was angry, but he was sympathetic and caring towards Emerald. "Femme, Optimus is coming to get your consent in-person from you for us to do this. Elita has ordered him to, just as Optimus has concurrently ordered Ratchet and I to cease touching you in an intimate way."

Emerald's optics widened. "Oh. He's... coming here?!" The full meaning of what Ironhide had just said hit her. "B-But... he can't! Not like this! We're busy!"

"You still have all your armor on and nothing exposed, Emerald," Ratchet said with a wry smile. "There's nothing for him to see."

"I know that! I'm talking about-" Emerald wrapped her small hand around Ratchet's stiff interface standing up in front of her abdomen, making the trapped CMO emit a keening sound of harsh pleasure, "-this! You and Ironhide, you're both," she waved her hands around, "you know; UP!"

Ironhide rumbled a laugh and patted her on the head fondly, "Em, mechs don't care about seeing _other_ mechs interfaces. Optimus won't blink an optic at seeing us like this, he won't be concerned."

"Can't you make this," Emerald pointed vaguely at Ironhide's erection, "go down again?"

"Read your reproduction data files again Emerald," Ratchet told her, "it can be difficult or near impossible to 'get rid' of an erection without making it overload first. Now really, I believe we can turn this little technicality into another lesson for you. When you are caught in an unfortunate intimate situation, think about turning it into a positive outcome. At some point, somewhere, a mech may try to take advantage of you, and saying 'you can't do that' won't stop him."

"There are some real glitch-headed pieces of slag out there," Ironhide chimed in, agreeing with Ratchet.

The CMO nodded in agreement, "So, I know your CPU feels like a muddle of emotions and thoughts that you can't control, but think. How can you talk to Optimus and stay in control, hmm? Ironhide and I will stand behind you, but you must work out a way of dealing with Optimus' request yourself."

So saying, both mechs moved silently and quickly to hover next to Emerald. Waiting for their Commander.

Emerald's optic ridges were high up on her forehead in shock and consternation. They wanted her to... oh Pit. Ratchet was crazy! How the slag could she turn this around?! She was standing with two big mechs who had naked and erect spikes and wouldn't cover themselves up, what was she – oh. Oh. Hey now, she had an idea. It was outrageous, but like Ratchet said, turn everything that was going wrong into an advantage. Yes, she had the best idea. Thanks Ratchet!

When the knock at the door came, and Ratchet called out for Prime to enter, Emerald was ready. She smugly folded her arms across her chest and prayed to Primus that her courage passed the test.

Optimus Prime strode through the open door in all his red-and-blue-flamed glory. The door slid silently shut behind him. He paused when he saw the little party waiting for him. Yes, there was Emerald, right up in front. His nose sensors identified the familiar scent of an aroused female. His hands twitched. It had been one whole Earth week since he had interfaced with his femme Elita One, and he was twitchy with the need to be inside of her and holding her in his arms while he overloaded hard into her body.

Ratchet shifting his weight from one leg to the other caught his attention... as did the hard spike straining upwards in front of his hips. One glance at Ironhide revealed him to be in the exact same condition. Aroused and ready to mate. But that wasn't a strange condition to find his Weapons Specialist in, he thought humorously.

The tall Commander steeled himself to get down to business and, er, leave them all to it. He focused on Emerald. "I sincerely apologise for interrupting you Emerald, but I do require verbal in-person consent from you so that I can satisfy the regulations quoted to me by the Femme Commander."

"No problem," Emerald said calmly, "but I have one regulation of my own that I require from you too, Sir."

Prime cocked his head curiously, "You do?"

"Mmm. Ratchet and Ironhide have told me of their difficulty with replacing their groin plates when they are excited as they are now." She steeled herself. "I therefore ask of you to stand before us in the same state they have unfortunately found themselves in." Emerald lifted her head up to stare him right in the optics. It was a long way up. Her spark quivered in her chest but she stayed in control. "Please open your groin plates and reveal your own interface to us as they are doing to you," her optics flashed, "it is only fair."

Ironhide turned his head away from them all and began snickering and snorting into one of his hands. Ratchet didn't bother to hide his amusement. He grinned and stroked his aroused spike lovingly.

Prime's jaw swung open for a few critical seconds before he recovered and shut it with a 'clink', and blinked in bewilderment at the femme standing before him. "I..." he forced his voice to drop an octave. "That is an unusual request."

"Unusual, yes, but fair. Don't you agree?" Emerald said and smiled softly, careful not to appear too gleeful at getting the upper hand over the legendary mech she was facing up to.

The Commander was silent as he contemplated her demand. Well, Elita wanted what she wanted, so if she got angry at him for revealing himself to another femme, he could only say he was following her orders to get Emerald to state before him that she was fine with letting Ratchet and Ironhide perform her induction. It was obvious to him that Ratchet had also given the femme some quick words in using diplomacy and swaying awkward situations to her benefit.

Emerald gasped and lost her cool control when she saw the three plates making up Optimus Prime's crotch armor begin to move. She outright nearly popped her optics out of their casings when Optimus angled his thighs further apart to give himself room for what was slowly appearing from a dark recessed hollow in his crotch – his long, thick, and big-headed, male interface.

"There. Can I now please hear the words from your mouthplates that my sparkmate has demanded from you so that I may return to my office and attempt to recover from this mild indignity?" Optimus Prime asked with as much elegance as he could get.

Regrettably, Emerald was now speechless.

"Prime, I don't think she's ready for a threesome just yet, but we can try," Ironhide offered helpfully.


	3. Chapter 3

**Masters of Pleasure**

Authors Note: I'm rushed off my feet lately. Phew! This chappie has been hanging around on my hard drive for a few weeks now. It isn't perfect, but I'd like to move things along. I am being very slow with my review responses for my fics, so big thanks to those who reviewed the previous chapter – _**magnusrae**_, _**femme4prime**_, _**Pyrofrickenmaniac**_, _**Jovianokamigirl**_, _**Dragonball-Gal**_, _**Pontifex Maximus**_, _**T.A. And T.A**_., _**flamingmarsh**_, _**steelcrash**_, _**cmo-hatchet**_, _**DracinaStormsailor**_, _**SwedishDragon**_, _**Quasarsmom**_, _**Babylon's Bumblebee**_.

**Chapter 3**

Emerald took one long look at Optimus Prime naked in front of her; taking in his long and thick interface, his massive chest, his extreme height, his intimidation factor and his overall hotness; and came to just one conclusion.

_RUN!_

Losing her nerve after being so uncharacteristically bold and in control, the femme shrieked and dived behind the legs of Ratchet and Ironhide for protection, where she crouched behind them with her arms over her head while she whined in distress. Ratchet shook his head slowly, covering his face with one hand. Ironhide sighed and stared up at the ceiling, muttering to himself. They had a long, _long_ way to go with educating this female. She was far too timid and easily overwhelmed.

"What?" Optimus Prime was flustered. "What on Cybertron is the matter?"

Ironhide vented a puff of air with a chuckle, shaking his head, "What do you mean, 'what's wrong'? She's just seen you naked, that's what's wrong, afthead. I'd be running too."

Ignoring his Weapons Specialist, Prime peered down at Emerald between the legs of his warriors with a flabbergasted expression and shook his head, opening his comlink to send Ratchet a message. _::I can see why you said this femme was in need of some help and education.::_

_::Yes,:: _Ratchet agreed wryly, ::_she is rather nervous. I think she over-stretched herself by asking you to reveal your interface. Experienced femmes may fall all over themselves to get a piece of you, but the young ones are just scared to death of the size of your equipment.::_The medic jerked his head over his shoulder, ::_Go and take a seat on my berth, I think it would be wise to de-sensitise her to you, if you would agree to help.::_

Optimus nodded sagely, ::_It cannot be healthy for her to carry this amount of stress around. I have some free time and I am willing to stay.::_

Ratchet huffed, _::Yes, I can imagine that if there was any chance of a female interfacing with another mech while you watch, you'd stay around.::_

Optimus rolled his optics in reply.

Moving slowly and trying not to intimidate the distressed femme any more than she already was, the Autobot Commander walked slowly past Ratchet and Ironhide with Emerald at their feet, and sat down on Ratchet's huge recharge berth. He thought about covering himself up again but left his interface hanging free. It was just beginning to thicken, reaching that halfway stage where it was getting interested in what was going on. Emerald had been doing well up until the moment when she saw his spike. If seeing his interface disturbed her, he should leave it uncovered so she could work out for herself how harmless it was. He remembered back to when he had first revealed himself to Elita. She had been surprised and shocked but not scared. Thank Primus he had not been her first. His precious sparkmate had been with enough mechs to not be frightened of being injured by him when she saw how big his male interface was. At first it had hurt him to think he wasn't her first mech, but now he considered it to be a good thing because otherwise she may not have pursued a relationship with him after finding out about his above average dimensions. He smiled softly. She had endless courage and a strong will, his femme. And now? Now, when he uncovered himself in front of his mate, nothing could make her smile more widely or spread her thighs and welcome him within her more quickly.

Optimus awkwardly cupped his hands together in his lap around his prominent maleness and waited for instructions. Ironhide sat down next to him – still with an erection that he didn't bother to cover up – and waited for Ratchet to make the next move.

The CMO – his erection not fazed by all the commotion – opened his arms up and locked optics with the scared femme, saying calmly, "Come here, Emerald."

Emerald was crouching on the front pads of her feet with her hands clasped together in front of her face. Worried. She'd watched Optimus Prime walk past her on his long, thick-thighed, legs, with his bared interface flopping sluggishly between his upper thighs. Watched Ironhide grunt and settle down next him on the berth. With none of the mechs grabbing her, forcing themselves onto her, or laughing at her, her shyness and fear had abated to let her think more clearly. Ratchet; the big broad hunky medical mech; was waiting for her to go to him. Waiting for her to make the next move. Offering her a hug.

Ratchet smiled and closed his arms around the little femme that had suddenly leapt up and dived for his embrace. "Good femme. It's all okay." He rubbed one hand up and down her back, feeling her small trembles within his enclosed arms. "We're all here to help you. Yes, even Optimus." Emerald pushed her face into his chest armor and sighed. He spread his hand out on her lower back, "There, that's better isn't it?"

A soft murmur of assent came back at him, along with a sneaky hand wrapping around his stiff maleness.

"Oh." Ratchet smiled. Enjoying her touch. "That's nice."

"Why is he getting all the attention?" Ironhide groused softly, crossing his large arms over his thick chest.

Optimus glanced at him and wrinkled his overlapping noseplate coverings, "Because he's in charge of this? Don't expect me to help your interface out because it's lonely and desperate. I'm not touching you."

The big leader mech propped his elbows behind him on the berth and leant back comfortably. He wasn't often included in the teaching of younglings how to interface. He was considered too big and too confronting for a young femme to deal with. Elita didn't mind him being used, she only had one condition when it came to his participation – he was not allowed to sheath himself within another femme. Other females learning about interfacing and mechs could touch him, stroke him, explore him, do just about anything (apart from spark-merging, of course, that was her domain too, and the fact that Prime's spark was bonded to hers, and therefore it would not merge with that of another) – except for letting him inside of them. That was a big NO from the Femme Commander. Optimus understood that. He only wanted to do such an intimate act with his sparkmate in any case, not any other random female.

And he was wary of getting his interface ripped from his groin or just shot off with her rifle if she felt him joining with another femme through their sparklink.

Ratchet kept rubbing his hand on Emerald's backplates while she played with his erect interface. It was a distraction for her, something she could concentrate on other than the legendary Autobot leader sitting on the berth behind her. As much as he would have loved to let her make him climax using her hands, he had an idea. An idea that involved his reclining commander. "Emerald, have you ever seen a mech climax?"

Emerald looked up at him. "You mean, like, overload?"

"Yes. When fluid comes out of a mechs spike."

"No..."

"Oh good. Right then," Ratchet carefully turned her around to face Optimus and Ironhide, and guided her over to stand in front of them. With his hands on her shoulders, he sent Optimus a stern glance. "Prime, I'd like you to let Emerald bring you to overload with her hands."

"What?" Ironhide demanded, "Why him and not me?" His black and silver hand pointed at Optimus' rising interface, "He isn't even properly stiff!"

"That's alright, she can get him up, give him a workout, then help him go down again. It will be a good education," the CMO insisted. "You'll get enough overloads 'Hide, don't get greedy. You're going to go back to Chromia after all this and spend the rest of the night pounding yourself into her anyway. I know you get off on doing these things, so don't complain to me about one less overload."

With all this talk of a femme making him climax, Prime's spike was now going magnificently fully vertical. "Um... Ratchet..."

"What, you have to ask Elita first?" Ratchet said with humor. He knew the tight control the Femme Commander had on him.

"No, I've already asked her that," Optimus said with a growl in his voice. He didn't like to be teased about how much his sparkmate dictated what he could – and couldn't – do. "I was going to suggest that we all sit here and let Emerald compare us to one another."

Ironhide snorted. "She doesn't need to guess and compare. I'm amazing on the berth, Ratchet is halfway decent, and you," he slapped one hand down on top of Prime's nearest thigh, "spend too much time on romance and touchy-feely slag instead of pounding a femme into such a state of incredible pleasure that she screams your name for the next joor."

Prime's optics darkened. He stared intently at Ironhide's throbbing erection. "If I ripped off your interface, I wonder whether Elita would want it as a datapad pointer or a sculpture."

"STOP! Enough!" Ratchet raised his arms from holding Emerald and cut the antagonism off before the pair of aftheads could really get going with the insults. "This lovely femme does not need lessons in how to be a cranky, old, spark-bonded, _grouch_. Now, Em, you are going to learn how to bring a mech to climax with your hands. And Optimus;" Ratchet sent his Prime a 'don't-mess-with-me' glare, "is going to stay as passive as you can and help guide you as a teaching exercise."

Ironhide spoke up, "He won't last long." He gave Optimus a piteous look, "He hasn't been with Elita all week. He's going to go off like the humans Fourth of July all over himself in a nanoclick. The only thing that would teach her is that he can't hold himself back like a properly experienced mech can."

The Autobot Commander looked like he was about to yank his rifle from subspace and shove the end of it so far down his Weapons Specialist's throat that when he pulled the trigger, it would blow off his aftplates.

Ratchet groaned, bringing both of his hands up to his face and muttering about stupid slagheads. "Enough! If you two don't stop I'll kick you both out and do all of this _myself_!"

While all three mechs carried on like a bunch of sparklings with the snide verbal shots, Emerald had been standing behind Ratchet and looking him up and down. She'd decided that he was the only mech medbot she'd ever seen that would be good enough to make Primus Himself cry with desire if He was a She. Very few males in the medical profession were built as big and strong as he was. Ratchet was a mech who could very efficiently lay down the law on the battlefield with his bare hands or his arm-transformable rifle. The doctor really had such a nice body. His luminous green-yellow metal was luscious and shiny under the ceiling lights, and the way his backplates bulged out at the top of his back and shoulders before narrowing down nicely into his super supple hips showed off his quiet sturdy strength. The expertly cared for thick muscle cables under his back plates showed glimpses of themselves when Ratchet gestured with his arms. It was lovely to watch. She thought it was such a shame that Optimus and Ironhide were such amazing and handsome mechs in their own right, that poor Ratchet was usually over-shadowed by them. The CMO was a mech that deserved a lot more appreciative glances and panting femmes following him around... and from his reputation, he often did. He was just very strict about keeping his private life and military medical duties apart.

She was such a lucky femme to have him showing her how to interface...

"Um, excuse me? I think we need to move along here," she said boldly. "Please?"

Optimus Prime stopped glaring stiffly at Ironhide and turned his softening gaze to her, while the black mech snorted air out of his intakes and muttered a few last insults. Ratchet looked at her over his shoulder.

"I would very much like to see Optimus overload in my hands..." her voice lowered shyly, and she looked down at Ratchet's feet to avoid meeting the Autobot Commanders gaze, "...if he would allow me to and if one of you would show me how."

From where Prime was leaning back on his elbows, he nodded silently at Ratchet as his 'yes'. "Emerald, I would warmly welcome you to do that," he rumbled softly. Optimus opened his internal comlink and silently sent his two senior mechs a communication. _::I think it is time to show this female what mature and experienced Autobot mechs can do.::_

A sly broody smirk from Ironhide and a soft knowing smile from Ratchet told Optimus that they were now all on the same wavelength and ready to strut their stuff. Wonderful.

"Emerald," Ratchet put his hand on her back and propelled her forwards towards Optimus, "come along."

The small slender femme went shyly where she was directed. She'd just ogled Ratchet's body up and down but that had in no way prepared her for the reality of standing next to a mech as huge, powerful and magnetic as the Autobot Commander was. Sure, he was lying down and not showing an ounce of worry that his interface was bare and stiff right in front of her optics. It was a privileged view that not every Autobot in his army got to see.

"Um..." Emerald's optics darted all over the place. She was nervous. And clueless. She'd just touched Ratchet's interface, but that had been in play. Being made to front up to an aroused mech and stimulate him into overload with her hands only had made her feel completely stupid.

Ironhide recognised her hesitation for what it was and reached out and grabbed hold of Optimus Prime's erection. "Grab it like this, Em." He pumped his hand up and down, "See?"

"Ironhide!" Prime hissed, making a bare handed swipe at the rude hand of his Weapons Specialist. The big black mech laughed and removed his hand.

"Lie down," Ratchet stood next to Optimus and gave a big hard shove to his chest to get him off his elbows.

With a grunt, Optimus lay flat on his back. He was getting the feeling that he had now become a big play toy for whatever the others wanted to do to him. He sighed and rubbed at his optics. Now wasn't that the story of his entire life...

Ignoring the resigned sighing and groaning coming from his boss, Ratchet got down to business, "Alright, now Optimus is very fortunate in having a large sized male interface. You won't find many mechs being as big as what you see in front of you at this very moment. Wouldn't it have been interesting if he was so much smaller?"

Optimus growled at him.

"Er, yes, moving on. Being large means you must be careful to pay attention to all of his length and not get stuck focusing on one little bit, like the head or the base. When you grasp him and pump your hand," Ratchet held up his elegant five-fingered paw and made a grasping and stroking motion, "keep the tightness and tension of your palm the same. Don't go loose, tight, loose, tight, and don't vary the rhythm with each stroke. You must do several pumps in a row of what pace you are setting before you change the tempo – you get me?"

Emerald blinked up at where Ratchet stood with her next to Prime's hips. "Er... sort of?"

Ratchet frowned, "Show her, Optimus."

Prime's optics widened. "Uh... _show_ her?"

"What, you can't show a pretty femme how you want her to touch you?" Ratchet mocked him.

With Ironhide sitting cross-legged next to him, Optimus lifted his hand and enclosed himself with it. Resolutely keeping his optics trained on the ceiling, he squeezed his stiff spike and gave several fast pumps from the root to the tip, then slowed his pace for a few pumps, going long and smooth, before speeding up again. He grimaced. Ironhide was right. He was right on the edge of climaxing.

"Now show her what to do when you don't want to come too quickly."

Clever medic. He'd noticed his dilemma. Optimus spread his free hand flat at the base of his interface to keep it steady, then used the thumb and forefinger of his other hand to squeeze hard right below the thick rounded head of his erection, making it bulge.

Emerald winced. "Isn't that, like, too hard? It looks painful."

"It is mildly painful. It is also necessary if you don't want a mech to come before you and he are ready to. If one of you goes off before you're both ready it can spoil the moment. Mechs are far too easy to stimulate and overload. _You_;" Ratchet patted her on the shoulder, "have the easy part of the job. A male has to work much harder to bring you to climax. Femmes are most often slow to ignite and warm up."

"Yeah, remember that Em," Ironhide nodded sagely, adding his opinion, "if a mech is ignoring your needs and pleasure, he's either stupider than a sharkticon and needs educating or he doesn't care about your overload. Meaning, he doesn't care about _you_. Don't put up with mechs like that. There are many more mechs out there to chose from," he smirked and pointed his thumb at his own chest, "like me."

"Yes, we all know about you," Optimus muttered, rolling his optics. His long thick thighs moved restlessly. Maybe it hadn't been such a great idea to agree to this. The ideal preparation would've been being with his beloved sparkmate the night before so he could drain his interface drive and reduce his urges. Then he wouldn't have to endure the pleasure/pain of holding back his desperately needed overload!

"One more thing," Ratchet said quietly. He looked down at her with a soft expression, "When you pleasure a mech with your hands, it adds to the experience for him if you also reveal a part of yourself as well." The medic gestured at her body, "Your spark or your valve. In this case, your female port would be appropriate since you will not be joining sparks with Prime."

Emerald thought that over. Ratchet couldn't be wrong. He was the best at this. She trusted him, and all three of the mechs had unsheathed their interfaces and were displaying their excited erections to her with no problem at all. "Of course," she bowed her head in deference, and retracted her groin armor. She stood awkwardly. Her shoulders hunched. Unsure of herself.

Ratchet bent over to get a quick glimpse of what she had revealed. The virgin slit of her port appeared narrow and tight, and she wasn't yet producing copious amounts of lubricant. There was no tell-tale glistening on the outside of the port – like he would expect to see with a sexually experienced femme who was staring at an aroused naked male. She would need the kind of help that he and Ironhide were used to giving to untouched femmes. Sensitive, caring and respectful help. From the looks of things, Emerald could also use a distraction that would jolt her out of her timidness. Something unexpected...

"Ironhide," Ratchet crooked a finger at the cannon-toting mech, "come here please."

Ironhide put on an annoyed expression. "What for?" He was on a recharge berth expecting to shortly be presented with a newbie femme to have fun with. Why should he get up?

"Because I'm telling you to, dumb aft. Get over here."

Grumbling, Ironhide heaved his heavy mass off the berth – while Optimus looked back and forth between them all – and presented himself to the CMO. "What?"

Ratchet stepped up close to the other mech, their chests making contact. He was only a touch shorter than the black mech. He stared up into Ironhide's roughly handsome faceplates and pouted – as much as a macho, mechly, armor-covered mech could pout.

"Oh." Ironhide's optical ridges lifted up as he realised what the CMO wanted. "Right."

With a roughness he would never have shown a female, Ironhide wrapped one big arm around Ratchet's waist to jerk his physique hard against his body, cupped the hand of his other arm behind Ratchet's head – and kissed the spark out of him.

"_Wha..._" Emerald blinked rapidly. Shocked, she backed up a step. "What the? But that's.. that's..."

"Ironhide and Ratchet kissing? Yes, it does make you want to rip out your own optics, doesn't it?" Optimus Prime said dryly, stroking his interface with one finger.

The Weapons Specialist and the Autobots CMO didn't hold back. They were grunting, groaning, and thrusting themselves at each other. Black armor clashed against lime green metal, each mech wrestling to get the upper triumphant hand with the kiss. It was a display of two males openly kissing while showing no fear or hesitation about what they were doing. They were into it.

Emerald had backed up so much that the backs of her legs hit the recharge berth. She plopped her aft down next to where Optimus was lying on his back and stared numbly at what was happening. "Wow. Are t-t-they going to s-stop?"

"Oh yes, one will get sick of it and knee the other in the groin," Prime scratched at his red and blue flamed chest armor. "That is how it usually ends, anyway."

"But, but, doesn't Chromia get upset?"

Optimus smirked, "No. She enjoys watching them." He cocked his head at her in query, admiring her slim form. "Do you like it or hate it?"

"I..." Emerald almost got double-vision when she glanced down from the kissing and saw how the two were pressing their erections together while their mouths were busy. Ratchet's interface was beginning to drip introductory transfluid down his own length, and the movements of the two of them were rubbing it all over the place. "I don't know..." she finally said weakly. "I guess it is," she gulped, "um, interesting." She glanced at him, "A mech kissing another mech isn't that weird, it's just that... those two?"

Prime nodded, "Hmmm. It would be even more interesting if one insisted on using the aft of the other."

"OH MY GOD~!"

"Yes. Welcome to the amazing world of interfacing, Emerald. Ironhide and Ratchet style."


End file.
